Regrets
by BrokenInfinty-City'sArmageddon
Summary: The sequel to "Ima Luigi! Numbera One!" (read that one first!!!) This fic sheds more light on the life of his father. Luigi regrets the murder of Mario.


Disclaimer: Blah Blah, Yea, yea. I don't own any of it except for Silvio and Carmella. As for the rest.well, you know the drill.  
  
It had been about a week since Mario and Peach been assassinated by Luigi's henchmen. He hadn't felt the slightest bit of guilt and was an extremely good actor when it came to blaming it on Bowser and becoming tearful at the mention of his brother's name. Luigi was going through some old things in the attic - he had to clear out Mario's things before the funeral. When he came across a box he'd never seem before.  
  
"Dad" it had been labeled. Curious about his father, Luigi opened the box. Inside was a picture of his father. "Hm.this look must run in the family" he thought as he saw a man almost identical to himself. He looked through several other things like photo albums, wedding pictures, and varied other junk until he came across a small leather-bound book.  
  
As he opened it, he discovered it was a journal his father had kept. He peered through the pages discovering something he never would've expected.  
  
This Journal belongs to: Silvio Mario.  
  
Well, hello. I'm not quite sure what to say here. My wife (Carmella) suggested I begin keeping it. Well, I don't think it has much of a use but it's been fun so far.I was bored so I took her advice.  
  
Ok, so the real reason I'm writing is because I'm a nervous wreck. My wife is about to deliver her second child and I don't remember being this nervous when Mario was born.Well, I think the writing is helping to calm my nerves a bit. Mario is already ten years old - I think he'll handle having a little brother very well.  
  
Mario is a good kid. I can tell he prefers his mother over me. I think I may be too intense for someone who has such a kind heart. After all, I don't think I've mentioned my job to you, have I?  
  
Wait, never mind the doctor just came to get Mario and I - I'll update later.  
  
Well, Carmella delivered my son successfully and, obviously, was very tired and fell asleep almost immediately. Luigi is his name. It was my father's name and a very good name at that.  
  
Now I can already tell the names in this family will get very confusing - especially for Mario. Silvio Mario, Carmella Mario, Mario Mario, and Luigi Mario. I don't think it sounds too bad.  
  
***  
  
It's only been two days since Luigi was born and it seems like I've missed so much. I feel pretty bad about leaving Carmella here with the two boys all the time but.well, let's just say its' been a busy two days. A lot of blood has been shed. This blood has been shed by many others, but most of it is my doing.  
  
Have you guessed I'm a mafia leader just yet? If not, I've just told you right there. I'm beginning to regret taking this path that I've chosen. There have been too many close calls recently. I can't leave Carmella or my boys alone in this world! Mario understands that much at least. Hopefully I can teach Luigi to stay away from the life I've chosen. Hell, I don't care if they grow up to be plumbers! As long as they don't do what I did.  
  
***  
  
*this page has smudged ink in blots implying that tears were falling when this was written*  
  
Carmella is dead. They shot her the dirty bastards, they shot her! I'll kill them, I'll kill them if it's the last thing I ever do. They wanted to kill Mario - take out my oldest son my "successor" ((Whom I wasn't even going to let him THINK of following my path)) and Carmella got in the way.  
  
She was always such a tough woman.most of the other Wives of the Don's would've been too scared to move when two men came at them with gun while two more went for her ten year old son. I still don't how she did it but she fought from the grip of two full-grown men just in time to dive in front of a bullet ment for my son.  
  
This is what happens when you're in this business. You're family is the number one target. Sometimes they don't just kill you. A lot of the time they kill your family and watch you as everything you had slips beneath your fingers. Mental and emotional torture - the cruelest kind. I am glad that Luigi is too younger to remember this. And I wish I could've been there to shield Mario's young eyes from the sight of his dying mother.  
  
I've got to find a way out of this - for the sake of my boys.  
  
***  
  
It's been almost five years now. I haven't written in here in ages but I knew I needed to finish it. So that maybe one day Luigi can find this and read it and be able to know who his father was. He's only five - Mario is fifteen and I know that Mario will remember me. I don't know what he thinks of me though.  
  
I know that Mario can handle raising Luigi - he's got such a big heart and I know he'll reach him well. I know he'll teach him all the things I wanted to but couldn't. I know that he'll teach him to stay away from this path. I've killed the man who was responsible for Carmella's death and it didn't bring her back. Revenge is an empty satisfaction. Mario knows not to go in this direction and I know he'll teach Luigi too. The last thing I want is for my boys to become me.  
  
Luigi closed the book and fell back into an old, dusty chair. "I'm sorry dad."he mumbled silently to himself. "I didn't know.I didn't know." Holding his head in his hands, he glanced at the clock. It was time for the funeral. The one funeral he hoped he'd never live to see. The first one caused by him and the last. He had never forgiven himself for what he'd done.  
  
After the funeral, he sat alone on a bench in the cemetery park thinking of times long past when Mario and Peach were alive, Mario was still one his best friends, and when he was still innocent. It was then he realized that he really had ended up like Michael Corleone at the end of Godfather II. The unfortunate part was, that he had brought it upon himself.  
  
No one ever heard from Luigi again and Silvio Mario's journal disappeared with him.  
  
A/N: This deranged bit of writing is dedicated to my friend Andy. This idea would not have come to me, had it not been for him. 


End file.
